It’s the Fourth of July and I’m time travelling. When people with PTSD remember traumatic events they don’t remember them, they re-experience them, all over their bodies, their cells vibrating at the same frequency of fear they had to back when the bad thing happened. But isn’t it some wonderful blessing that also happens with good memories? Your cells also know those frequencies to call back up. The world pours itself into us and years later we can spill it forth.
Today I am 5 and it is Fourth of July. Today we are excited for the night’s darkness to come, and it always comes softly in the summer, later than you think it will. Today I will get to draw my name with the temporary lightning of sparklers. Today we will play basketball and someone will fall and break their arm. Today I will eat hotdogs and potato chips and soda and ice cream sandwiches. Today the oldies station will play “My Girl” as my father carries me on his shoulders to the lake, I must be so light. Today the fireworks show will be longer than you think, and you won’t know when the climax is until it’s done, until all the people gathered clap for more and then give in, folding their blankets, picking up their coolers, grabbing for their children’s hands. Today we celebrate what supposedly unites us, and we say it is this flag. But see I think we celebrate the night today, we celebrate the darkness we can write on, it is the middle of summer and here we are outside in a crowd, oohing and aahing and the children are entranced.